No Way To Say I Love You More
by xohearted12
Summary: She started small, not expecting much, and you're not sure whether or not you will ever be able to thank for doing just that. Sequel to 'Promise Me, Be My Everything.'


Hi, guys! First off, I want to thank everyone for all the love and reviews on my last story. It really meant a lot to me and totally inspired me to continue the story. I'm really happy with the way this turned out, though it's definitely not perfect.

I really hope you enjoy this one, and please let me know what you think! :)

A/N: If you have not already noticed, this piece is a sequel to _'Promise Me, Be My Everything'_, so if you have not read that one, I suggest that you do.

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pairing: steve mcgarrett/kono kalakaua

_fandom:_ hawaii five-0

_genre:_ romance/drama

_disclaimer:_ still not mine, even though I wish they were.

_note:_ sequel to _'Promise Me, Be My Everything'_

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_offered me the universe, but inside my heart there's a picture of a girl. _

It's a Monday morning, the second since your wedding, and she's sleeping beside you, so peacefully that you want nothing more than to get inside her head and know exactly what it is that she dreams about.

Her hair is laying over face and her hand is resting behind her head while the bed sheets are pulled up over her shoulders, shielding her body from the cold, morning air. You can feel the warmth of her body against your bare chest, but the main thing you see are the rings placed on the fourth finger of her left hand (exactly where they belong). You're able to remember the moment you first slipped them onto her fingers, in that courthouse, with just Danny and Chin as your witnesses.

Standing there, promising her your life and your heart, while she wore a beautiful white dress, had most definitely become one of your greatest memories. With her hand in yours, she promised to stand by you through the good and - more importantly - the bad, all with a smile on her face and a firm grasp on your heart.

That moment, one that you desire to hold on to forever, is more than enough to outweigh the stains left behind by every horrible experience you had ever come by thus far.

Soon, her eyes start to flutter open, her nose scrunches up, and she's pushing the strands of hair off her face and behind her ear. Once she notices your eyes on her, she attempts to hide her blush by burying her face into a pillow while also allowing a small laugh to escape her mouth.

"Have you been watching me?"

You instantly shake your head to deny the fact, but can't help yourself from staring, because she is beautiful and funny and totally badass and it still completely amazes you that you get to call her your wife. Then, her hand is on your cheek and her mouth is on top on your own. It's no wonder the phone ringing beside the bed becomes the last thought in your head as you take in her scent.

It's later that you pay attention to the way she stumbles out of bed, her hair disheveled, and wearing nothing more than a tank top and a pair of panties, the sunlight just starting to shine through, hitting her perfectly tanned legs, and you want nothing more than to pull her back in to you.

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_you are chasing the ghost of a good thing. _

You return to work and Danny immediately makes it his job to constantly bring up the fact that you ended up happily married, while he has a daughter from a broken home, and with each time it's mentioned, you still find yourself surprised.

It just doesn't seem fathomable that this has become your life.

You are only thirty-four years old, and yet, your entire life has been one huge disaster, just a string of screwed up decisions and shitty luck. And, for a lot longer than you're willing to admit to anyone, you honestly believed that that would be your life. That you would forever be the person who's mother died and listened as his father was killed. It had been easy to fall in to that idea before, but not anymore. Not while she is around and that ring is still wrapped around your finger. Instead of being afraid that another person you love will die, your greatest fear has become that one day she will wake up, realize how damaged you are, realize what she's gotten herself into, and walk away.

And the worst part is, if that were to happen, if she did decide to leave you behind and find a better life, you're not sure you would blame her.

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_i could be your perfect disaster, you could be my ever after._

For some reason (and out of nowhere), Kono decides that you drink too much.

Even though it's really only an occasional beer with the team or while watching a football game, you know that it bothers her. And, without her having to mention it, you know that she worry comes from what she has seen with her father. Though she has only told you about it in passing, you've learned that, during much of her childhood, her father had done a lot of drinking, causing a great deal of heartbreak for her family. And while she loves and adores her father, she never wished to marry him.

After a few screaming matches about how ridiculous she is being, you realize your insensitivity and promise her that you will stick to two beers a week. She seems satisfied with your idea with a sigh and small, gentle kiss on your cheek.

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_pain is only relevant if it still hurts. _

For quite some time, you've known that she's aware of the box you have hidden underneath the bed. There is nothing scandalous placed inside, but just a simple shoebox filled to the top with pictures of your mother and your father, as well as the sister you have failed time and time again. These pictures, ones that used to hang on the walls of this home, have haunted your soul by bringing feelings of guilt and hatred directly to the surface. The pictures of your mother had remained on the walls for years after her death, your father not ready to except the fact that he had become a single parent to two children he did not know how to raise. But after he died, they just become much to difficult to walk by, so you tore them down, stuffed them in that box, put the box under your bed, and have not opened it in years.

But, somehow, she found it.

You're almost positive that if it had been anyone else, you would not have been happy, but you really cannot blame her for trying to fill in the gaps you leave. It's strange to think that there are times where you feel like she doesn't even know you. She knows a lot, accepting your numerous flaws by agreeing to marry you, but there are still pieces of your soul that she has not reached yet, pieces that are filled with darkness and broken promises that even you are scared to embrace.

While you are completely aware that you will never be the best thing for her, with your bruised insides and your rugged exterior, damaged by memories you so desperately wish you could escape, all those thoughts of self doubt vanish when she's beside you, whispering in your ear that she loves you. Her breath is warm and full of hope as she speaks against you neck while her body is curled in to yours in the mornings.

Those moments (better than any other you can recall), are what you live for now. It never mattered that there are rules against it - your relationship - or that you did everything you could not to fall in love with her (for more than one reason), one way or another you were going to end up in her arms, simply because she has never seen you as the screw up you know that you are. Instead, she saw you as the man that is definitely a better cook than she is, enjoys running, and is pretty great at figuring out crossword puzzles. She started small, not expecting much, and you are not sure weather or not you will ever be able to thank her for doing just that.

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_we stand there like statues from different cities, both warriors of the same war. _

There's a knock at your door in the middle of the night and before she has a chance to wake beside you, you're on your feet, reaching for the gun in your drawer, and running down the stairs. All the lights are off when the door swings open, but instead of being faced with a dangerous enemy (which is a definite possibly, you've got plenty) hoping to kill you, it's your sister, looking tired and sad and shocked standing behind your front door.

You're ashamed to admit it, but you are just not sure which one you would prefer.

…

Mary walks through your front door, her hair shorter than you've ever seen it, and awkwardly takes a place on your couch before using her fingers as entertainment. You offer her a drink - she kindly declines - and then sit beside her while also maintaining a bit of distance. The room is dark without any natural sunlight and it's suddenly begun to feel colder from the lack of conversation, both of you biting your tongues, refusing to be the first to cave. Even though it has been three years since you lost spoke, you can pretty much guarantee that she is still the same girl that you grew up with. She had always been stubborn as hell (just like you), while also managing to be one of the funniest people you had ever meet (not like you).

She informs you that she has spent the last year or so traveling around the mainland, hoping to find a place that she belongs, a place that feels like home, which makes sense when thinking about the fact that she landed on your doorstep just past midnight. She was raised here, on this island, in this home.

She apologizes for not waiting until morning to come by, but you tell her that you don't mind. You hadn't been sleeping well anyway.

She tells you that she is sorry for staying away, but you dismiss her (you cannot believe that she is blaming herself for the distance).

She tells you that she is going to be staying on the island for a while, that she hopes to find a job while trying to get her life back in order. In most ways, you are happy to hear this, mainly because you are happier to see her than you believed you would be, and it also means that you won't have to spend as much energy on worrying about where she is and what she is doing. Three years disappeared and for all you knew, she could have been dead (everyone else seems to be).

Eventually, you notice that she opens her mouth, searching for the right words to speak, but before she gets the chance to say them, you're up off the couch, telling her that she can have the couch before marching up the stairs. It was probably a cowardly move on your part, but can't bring yourself to care at the moment. You head is pounding, your bones are aching, and all you want is to sleep beside your wife, desperately hoping to escape the problems and conversations that await you in the morning.

…

Hours later, you awaken to the smell of coffee brewing and footsteps on the hardwood floor. You're up before the woman on the opposite side of the bed, and while doing your best not to wake her, you leave the bed, brush your teeth and throw on the cleanest shirt you can find.

When you make it into the kitchen, you notice Mary staring at the refrigerator door, looking shocked and hurt.

"You got married?" Her voice breaks with each word as she points at your wedding picture.

You simply nod, anticipating her reaction, whether she screams or cries, you're just happy that she is finally home.

"How long? When?"

"Six months." It's not supposed to, but that answer even surprises you. It truly does not feel like it has been that long already.

Mary stares at the picture some more, while also trying to hide just how hurt she really is, but you know her better than that. She tells you that Kono is beautiful and that you look really happy as you stumble endlessly on the words that should have been said before this point.

Suddenly, you hear Kono's footsteps, making their way down the stairs before stopping short upon seeing your sister in her house. A moment pause, filled with awkward silence and long stares. You wife is looking at you with confusion, knowing that Mary had not been here when she had fallen asleep the night before, while Mary looks down at her feet and you think about how allowed things to get this far.

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_every stone is a story that weighs us down. _

One day, after work, both you and Kono make your way into the cemetery where your mother has been buried for nearly twenty years.

Still, even after all this time, the thought of your mother being dead and lying in the ground still causes your stomach to turn. The entire drive is silent. You're too busy thinking about the idea that neither one of your parents got the chance to meet the woman that fixed you, while she does her best to be supportive. Her hand is resting on your thigh as her thumb strokes your skin as you travel down the road.

After arriving and parking, you find your place on a patch of grass near your mother. Memories flood your consciousness as you try to conceal your tears behind your eyelids. Kono stands a few feet away, allowing you a few seconds to yourself, giving you the chance to say what you need to say before walking towards you, placing her hand on your back and rubbing it in a soothing manner. It's amazing to you how she's able to know exactly what you need from her, whether it be comfort or space or company.

As you walk back to the car you turn to her, put your hand around her waist as she places her arm around your shoulder and say, "You make me happy."

She nods in agreement, telling you that you do the same for her (something you never imagined you'd get to hear), her voice laced with a hint of concern as her fingers run through your hair. You tilt your head to rest in her palm because you're just so damn tired and she is exactly where you need to be.

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_take all these bones and shove them down your throat. _

She goes undercover for almost two weeks just before your first wedding anniversary.

The case she's working on is long and complicated and you almost lose your mind during that time, not just because you are concerned for her safety, but also because spending your days watching a bunch of grown men touch your wife in places you are not comfortable with is not exactly something you enjoy doing.

Finally, once the case is closed, job well done, and she is able to return home, it only takes a few seconds after she walks through the front door for you to press up against her body and push her towards the wall as her tan legs (damn, you missed those) make their way around your waist, almost as if she is staking her claim.

This is one of those times that you're able to stare into her eyes and remember the first time you saw your future in her.

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_sun lights up the daytime_, y_ou light up my life._

Somehow, October turns into November, the change signaled by the brisk chill felt in the air, and then November becomes December, and Christmas arrives at your doorstep, as do Danny, Grace, Chin, Malia, and Mary.

It's the first year in a long time that you've actually put up a Christmas tree and others decorations, surrounded by your family (or the family that took the place of the one you had been given and lost).

Just after dinner, each of you take a spot in the living room, drink a beer, and laugh about stupid things that don't really matter but are fun to think about. That's when you notice that she is acting strangely, escaping to the bathroom on several occasions, as well as refusing a drink. At first you dismiss it, and it's not until after you are opening a box containing a positive pregnancy test that you put the pieces together.

You are still in a state of shock while a round of congratulations go around and Kono kisses your face.

But once it all settles in, the idea that you are going to be a father, that she is carrying your child (again), you could both vomit and tell the whole world out of excitement all at once.

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She goes through months of morning sickness (which does not just take place in the morning, note to every husband out there) and late, midnight cravings. You do your best to support her, but find the task difficult since you're not the one going through any of it. Within the first month of knowing, she goes out to every book store and buys every book she could find, each about a different topic, spanning from names to birth to stretch marks. You can see the excitement in her eyes expand with every time she talks about the baby, but all you can do is hope and pray that it sticks this time, because you could not bare to watch her go through another miscarriage.

But, just after New Year's, she is scheduled for her first sonogram and while you're both incredibly nervous, that feeling instantly washes away as soon as you hear that loud, strong thumping sound echo throughout the small, white room, and almost at the same time, you and her both release a sigh of relief, as if you each had the same worries but never mentioned them, worried that they may have been ridiculous.

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_she was an american summer with red lips and a longer for disaster. _

An HPD officer is killed while woking on a crime scene, shot in the head and chest while patrolling the city. The murder rocks the police force hard, and, soon after, the governor decides to hold a benefit to honor his bravery and courage, as well as a way of showing support for his wife and the children, five and seven (if you remember correctly) he's left behind with his final breath.

The event (dress code: black tie) is held in a great, big hall filled with tables upon tables, as well as pictures of the man you only shared brief, work related conversations with.

You're wearing your best suit, bow-tie and all (simply because you refuse to wear a tie, directly because you hope to avoid the inevitable teasing you will receive from your partner if you were to do so), and Kono - five months pregnant now, with the belly to prove it - walks in on your arm, wearing a floor length dark green dress that shows off her waist. You know that she's uncomfortable in this type of attire (especially now that she's carrying an extra ten pounds or so), but you make sure to tell her how beautiful you think she looks. Each time you do, she smiles sheepishly before tucking her hair behind her ear and looking down at her feet, doing her best not to trip over her own feet.

Later, speeches are made and tears are shed, but while all of this is taking place, you make a note to watch the wife of the fallen officer as everyone else talks about how much they respected her husband. She wants to cry, so badly, there's nothing she wants to do more than that, but she will not allow herself to. It is taking everything she has to keep the tears in, to remain strong for the children she has been left to raise.

You notice that Kono does the same on several occasions. As the governor takes to the podium, you watch as she looks in the wife's direction, looks down at her stomach and begins to stroke it, and, without her having to say anything, you already know what she is thinking about.

She's trying not to let herself think about the idea that, one day, a year or two or more down the road, that woman, so broken hearted and devastated by the loss of her husband, could be her. But instead of allowing her to think about it too hard, you reach your hand out towards her while nodding your head, hoping she knows that you would never let it happen.

But, then again, the man that died, the reason all of these men and women are gathered together, probably said the same thing once.

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The benefit ends and just before everyone starts to make their way towards their respective cars, you and Kono both make your way towards the head table, the table where his family had been seated, hoping to say some words.

Your attention is directed immediately towards the youngest child of the killed officer. He is holding his father's badge, twirling it around between his fingers while tapping his foot against the legs of his chest because he is just not tall enough to reach the ground. Kono, standing behind you, lets go of your hand as you kneel down in front of the boy. He looks up at you instantly and you can tell that he's been crying.

"Your father was very brave. I hope you know that." He nods, and you smile, patting him on the shoulder with a gentle hand.

Once you have made your way out of the building and into your car, she turns to you and whispers in her sweetest voice, "You are going to be an amazing father."

You squeeze her hand, tightly, letting her know that you appreciate her for thinking so, and silently pray that she's right.

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The next morning, she is sitting on the kitchen counter, wearing nothing but your dress shirt from the night before (which looks a whole lot better on her than it ever did on you) when you come down the stairs. Her wavy, brown hair is pulled into an elastic band at the base of head, though a few loose strands have escaped and are resting on the sides of her cheekbones. For a minute or two, she doesn't notice you standing there, watching her as she eats out of her cereal bowl. You watch as she taps her heel against one of the cabinets and stirs the milk with her spoon. It's a quiet moment, one you will probably overlook in the coming years, but to you, it feels like the perfect way to wake up.

Once she notices you standing there, that you are watching her, her head tilts back and the awkward angles of her hair as it falls on her back grabs your attention as she laughs. It is such a genuine and happy laugh that you almost wish that sound, her laugh, was the one you could always hear, even when she is lost or confused and you're to stupid and clueless to help. You want nothing more than to always hear that laugh, because you are positive that it is a sound you will never tire of.

Randomly (and you're not sure why), you tell her, "I don't want to be like my father."

For a second, she looks at you cautiously, unsure of what to say, but then she's motioning you towards her and you do just that - move in her direction - looking for the hope and guidance she provides.

You're not exactly sure what you meant by that statement, but she must because she's kissing your forehead, your eyebrow, just above your cheekbone, and, finally, your mouth.

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_found out how love should be_, w_hen you get the time to feel anything._

You read all the books she told you to read.

You painted the nursery and assembled the crib just the way she asked you to.

You listened to her as she went through a seemingly endless list of baby names, feeling that you would never come to an agreement.

Nine months had come and gone, and while you had believed that that amount of time would have been sufficient enough, none of those things would have ever prepared you for the moment she went into labor.

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You're terrified and nervous and anxious, pacing the room and biting your nails, but do everything in your power to hold it that in as she struggles through the contractions.

You watch her wince and scream and cry in her hospital bed while you sit beside her bed, hold her hand as she squeezes it, and feel completely useless. This goes on for a total of fifteen long, grueling hours before she is finally ready to push.

No less than twenty minutes later and the room is filled with a loud scream that echoes against the walls and through your heart, similar to the way that heartbeat had done so many months before. The baby - a boy - is placed into his mother's awaiting arms as she cries, no longer from fear or pain. You watch in awe as mother and child interact for the first time, entirely convinced that this was what your wife has always been destined to become.

She turns to you, holds your cheek and speaks, in utter disbelief. "He's here. He's finally here." She repeats that over and over again, even after they have taken him away to clean and weigh him.

And even though her hair is sweaty and her gown is covered in blood, you cannot help but fall in love with her all over again.

…

Soon, she's asleep, exhausted from the days events, and you decide that it's time to tell the waiting aunts and uncles. You walk out into the waiting room, announce the news, and are met with a mountain of hugs and a lot of screams.

Grace is practically bouncing with excitement, as are Malia and Mary, while Chin congratulates you with a pat on the back.

And, Danny, probably the quietest of them all (to your surprise) is wearing his greatest smile, staring at you like he's never been more proud to call you his partner and best friend.

….

Later, you're sitting in the chair beside her bed as she holds your son, Leo James McGarrett, six pounds, four ounces, and nineteen inches long (much smaller than the doctor had been expecting). His cheeks are flushed with color as he sleeps and her finger rubs against them in a calming pattern, and you don't think you've witnessed a more perfect sight.

Somehow, he manages to wrestle his little arms out of the blanket he is wrapped in to stretch, and you find yourself paying attention to just how tiny his fingers really are (all ten of them, thankfully), as well as the resemblance between his eyes and his mother's, big and brown and full of wonder.

You feel the desire to thank you for everything she has given you, but instead of saying it, you kiss both her forehead and your newborn son's for a long second, and pray that she knows how much she means to you.

THE END.

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Thank you so much for reading, and I really hope that you enjoyed!

Oh, and for anyone that lives in the United States, I hope that you all had a happy and safe Thanksgiving! I know I did. lol

Thanks again! And will see you next time!


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